


The Winter Spider | Peter Parker

by jupiduer



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Avengers Family, Blood and Violence, Brainwashed Bucky Barnes, Brainwashed Peter Parker, Child Death, Dark Peter, Deaf Clint Barton, Death, Disturbing Themes, Domestic Avengers, Drug Abuse, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, Gun Violence, Heavy Shit Here Folks, Hinter Peggy Carter, Hurt Peter Parker, Hydra (Marvel), Hydra Peter Parker, I'm Sorry, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Kidnapping, Languages, Major Character Injury, Major Character Undeath, Missions Gone Wrong, Near Death Experiences, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Past Violence, Poor Peter Parker, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Read at Own Risk, References to Depression, SHIELD, Serious Injuries, Sign Language, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, The Winter Spider, Undercover Missions, Violence, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, hydra bucky barnes, implied Steve/Bucky, mature themes, sorta - Freeform, sorta???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-07-14 06:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16034576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiduer/pseuds/jupiduer
Summary: ❛❛ WHEN YOU FIGHT MONSTERS IT'S AT RISK OF BECOMING ONE YOURSELF. ❜❜|| Two years ago, one of humanities favourite masked vigilantes went off the grid. Since then, no one has heard from the red and blue arachnid. But while everyone was searching for Spider-Man, only a handful of people were looking for Peter Parker. The Avengers, however, were searching for both. ||





	1. | prologue |

  
**Peter Parker was**   _terrible_ at lying.

It was a surprise that he managed to keep his secret identity a secret for this long.

Between twisting the truth to Aunt May, tricking Ned, and throwing Michelle off track, it was exhausting and hard to keep up with all the lies.

Of course, he could always come out and tell them, they  _are_ friends and family, after all. But, no. He decided it would be best if Spider-Man remained masked.

It was for their safety, he reassured himself. Their safety, along with others, is his main priority. He  _had_ too keep them safe. It was in his job description.

     

As of the moment, Peter Parker was perched on the top of one of his favourite rooftops. His feet dangled over the edge of the building as he took in a breath of fresh air. Exhaling, a smile stretched onto his face.

Looking onwards, he marvelled at the sight of the purple and red painted sky. The sun sets faintly in the background as if it was dangling by a thread.

It was only a matter of time before nightfall hit the city.

A bad feeling crept its way into Parker's stomach, but he thought nothing of it. If he was truly endangered, his Spidey Senses would warn him about it, right?

A car alarm went off in the distances and he jumped to his feet. Pulling down his mask, he leapt off the building and into the chaos below him.

Oh, how Peter should have made his way back home instead.

     

Peter only came to an hour later, a large wound that was closing up quite nicely, thanks to his abnormal healing, on the back of his head.

Blinking, he opened to his eyes to find himself in a large lab-like area. Going to move his arm, he found that they were restrained. Tugging, harshly, he may add, he tried to break whatever metal this was. His eyes widened upon realizing that he couldn't break it.

But that was impossible -- he had crazy strength! He could put up a decent fight with Captain America, for god's sake!

So why wasn't it breaking? What  _was_ this material?

"It's Vibranium." a voice spoke.

Startled, Peter whipped his head in the direction of the voice.

Blinking, it appeared to be a man in his late twenties wearing a lab coat.

_Who are you?_  Peter wanted to question, but somehow, he couldn't find his voice.

"My name is nothing to be concerned with. If anything, you should be concerned about where you are," he answered with a raised eyebrow, his voice thick with a Russian accent.

Eyes widening even more, the boy looked owlishly around the room.

Who's lab was this? Where  _was_ he? Was he  _kidnapped_? Why did they ki--

"Ah, he's awake." a new voice spoke, the sound of a metal door sliding shut echoed after him. Turning his head back to the entrance, Parker looked towards the owner of the voice.

"Unfortunately." the first male, that Peter was convinced was a mind-reader, said with distaste.

Tugging against the metal cuffs, Peter swallowed harshly, his saliva cooling his aching throat. "L-Let me go!" he muttered weakly, after  _finally_ finding his voice.

The second male sighed as he walked over towards the boy and the table beside him. "I'm afraid that is not possible, Mister Parker," he spoke, his voice accented too. Looking down at the surface of the table, the (what looked to be) scientist darted his eyes across the many tools.

Lifting his hand up, he brushed his fingers over a few instruments before finally settling on a large needle. Peter's face dulled.

God, did he hate needles.

A smirk pulled at the man's lips, his eyebrow raised. "However, if you behave properly, I'm sure that your stay here will be  _somewhat_ decent." with that, he plunged the needle into the boys neck.

Three seconds later and Parker's vision started to dance with black dots. The floor beneath him began to sway as his head was suddenly too heavy to lift. Before his eyes closed, however, the man with the smirk looked down at the younger boy with pure fascination.

"Remember," he whispered, his mouth next to the younger's ear. " _Hail Hydra._ "

Peter blacked out.

     

Gun in hand, Peter pulled the trigger, his face was emotionless and his eyes were dull as he watched the life fade from the child's eyes.

Peter Parker was  _terrible_ at lying.

So when asked if he enjoyed it, he found no reason to lie.

He  _loved_ it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. паук

**"Prep him again,"**  the Strucker commanded, his jaw stuck out to the side with anger. This was one of the most frustrating patients he's had to deal with. Oh, how he just wanted to wring the kid's neck.

"But, sir! He's already b--"

"I said prep him  _again_!" Strucker seethed, his words like venom. " _The_   _Spider_  will learn to not disobey direct orders from me and my higher commanders." 

"Y-Yes, sir."

Strucker sighed as he felt an oncoming headache. Turning away, he looked towards his left to find another agent. "Make sure that he's wiped clean. He has a mission tomorrow." With that, he pushed past the man and out the door, the sound of a young child's screams filled the long corridor.

     

Five hours later, a young boy awoke in a vibranium cell that would oddly remind him of something later, but he wouldn't be able to place a finger on it.

Blinking wearily, he was greeted by the sight of a dark coloured ceiling. Turning his head to the side, a groan was pushed out of his body at the actions. He hurt all over -- and he didn't know why.

Hell, he hardly knew who he was.

Looking around, his senses buzzed manically.

The smell of mildew fluttered his nose as the sound of water dripping from the ceiling and onto the hard, concrete floor filled his ears. A few feet away, a metal pipe in the wall groaned from its old age.

He winced.

Why was everything so  _loud_?

Shifting to where he was sitting up, if you could call it sitting up that is, he slowly brought up his hand to his face. He was only halfway there when the metal chain around his wrist caught his arm, restraining him from doing so.

Letting out a breath of air, the boy gave up on wiping his eyes for now. Instead, he decided to look around.

The cell overall was bland and dark. In the corner of the room was a tin bucket and what was left of a roll of toilet paper. Off to the side of the room was a small, iron desk. Rust made its way up the legs of the table and it wasn't long before it covered the rest of the desk, either.

 The lighting above him, which consisted of a long, singular UVB bulb, began to flicker. It too was showing signs of old age.

Why was everything so _old_?

Slowly (and cautiously, he might add), he moved to where his feet were hovering above the ground. Hesitantly, he placed one bare foot on the concrete and waited for a couple of beats. When nothing happened, he thought it was safe enough to place the other foot on the ground.

Standing up, the boy looked down to find that there was another chain wrapped around his ankle and connected to the one on his wrist. It was the same for his other side. Trying to move his feet apart, he winced as he realized that all components of the restraints were connected to each other and wrapped around his waist. Almost like a chastity belt. Well, a more  _extreme_ chastity belt, that is.

Taking one step, the boy's breath hitched at the pain.

Why was he hurting so bad?

He tried to think back on it, but his mind kept coming up blank. The only thing that he remembered was waking up on his cot just a few minutes ago.

That, and that he worked for an organization called HYDRA.

But, if he was working for HYDRA, why was he chained up? 

Was he kidnapped?

Was he a--

A loud noise interrupted the sound of his thoughts. Turning his head at the speed of light, the boy found himself staring at a man in his cell -- the doors closing right after he entered.

"You have awakened, паук?" the man said, his voice thick with a Russian accent.

"Who are you?" The boy -- паук, was it? -- questioned back. His pupils were dilated and his tongue felt somewhat heavy. Maybe the aftereffects of a strong drug? Possibly.

Awaiting an answer, the boy's blood boiled when the man didn't reply. "Who are you? Where am I? Is this HYDRA?"

Still, the man did not answer. The only thing he did do was walk to the iron desk and lied down a manila folder, its contents near bursting at the seams.

паук looked at him questionably, but the man only nodded towards it before walking towards his original spot. Crossing his arms over his chest, he continued looking at the youth.  паук noticed that his left eye twitched the slightest every few seconds.

It made him uneasy.

Swallowing his saliva, he gradually made his way towards the manila folder. His fingers twitched as he reached for the page and flipped it open.

Inside was copious photos of a man with a suit and goatee.

On one photo was him holding a phone up to his ear and talking violently with whoever was on the opposite line. Flipping to the next, паук saw the same man with a female. She had her light coloured hair in a low bun and a more feminine business suit on, somewhat matching the males.

Eyebrows knitted together as he flipped through more photos. As he reached the last one, he looked at it in confusion.

It was a copy of a photograph. On it was the male and a younger person -- but their face was blurred out. The photo, though it was just a mere copy, looked worn out and rough around the edges. It was a clear indicator that this photo was taken years ago.

Setting the photo's aside, паук looked towards the (still) unnamed male. "What is this?" he questioned, his own voice thick with an accent as well.

"That," came the reply, "is Anthony Stark. He is your mission."

Even  _more_  confusion set in. "What mission -- who  _are_ you?"

The male sighed. "They didn't use the book, did they?" Grumbling, he reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, red book. On the cover was a faded spider symbol. The guy flipped the book open and began to read aloud.

" _Deluge,_ "

"What?" Peter spoke in confusion. Why is he saying that wo--

" _Revival_ ,"

A gasp of pain escaped the young boy's mouth. Why did these words sound so  _familiar_  -- and why was he suddenly so scared? Goosebumps appeared up and down his naked arms as his blood ran cold. What was happening to him?

" _Fifteen_ ,  _Homecoming_ ,"

паук , despite his pain, dropped to his knees. The sound of metal chains hitting the floor echoed around the mildew-scented room. "Stop, please, no--" he begged the evil man. But what was he begging for? He didn't know.

" _Deviant, May,_ "

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he struggled against the restraints. "Stop, please!" 

" _Perception,_ "

His eyes were becoming more glazed and his tongue felt even heavier than it already was. His body ignited in pain, and his mind started to fill with static.

" _Release_ ,"

He wanted to beg.

He wanted to beg and scream and shout and cry and break free.

But for some reason, he couldn't do any of those.

" _Spider_ ," The man spoke with a sneer as he glared down at the young boy in pain. Closing the book, he placed it back in his jacket.

Bending down to the boy's level, he whispered his last word. " _Bullet._ "

Then, the boy fell numb. He didn't move and it didn't seem like he was breathing either.

"Soldier?" the older man asked.

Lifting his head, the boy looked up to the familiar man. His long, shaggy hair fell into his eyes as his body heaved. For a moment, he said nothing. But as the man raised his fist, ready to strike, the boy finally spoke.

_"Ready to comply."_

 


	3. snowden

 

 **"You leave at**  dawn. Any additional information, such as your alias will be delivered to you via flash drive." Strucker spoke, his voice sharp and controlling.

Nodding, The Spider began to pack the essential's into his backpack. Packing light was always a habit for him -- and a good one at that. If there was any possible way that he got into a sticky situation or tight squeeze, it was best to get the hell out of there -- and having to trudge around a big ass luggage case wasn't ideal.

Stuffing in a first aid kit into one of the outer pockets, the male walked back to his table, the rusting metal cuffs still constricting his body, and sat down at the stiff chair. He began to look over the case, seeing it this  _was_ his mission. After studying every single detail that he could pick up on, he closed the manilla file and stuffed that as well into the black knapsack. The only thing he could do now was wait.

     

Sunrise came by soon enough. Opening his eyes, the boy looked around the room. He's been meditating for hours. The only reason he knew that it was time to move, was when a singular flash drive was placed on the ground near the bottom gap of the door.

Standing up fully, he stretched his limbs (to the best of his abilities) and grabbed his rucksack. Walking to the flash drive, The Spider picked it up and watched silently as his fingers slid over the engraved symbol on the stick. It was what looked like to be a dark red octopus, a skull in the middle of it.

A familiar tingle made the hair on the back of his neck stick up.

Instantly, he stuffed the drive into the side pocket of the bag and straightened his back. Only a fraction of him relaxed when he found out it was just Strucker. He still stood on edge, however.

"At ease, паук," he replied, his eyebrow raised as he stood with a pile of clothing in his hand. "I've merely brought you some clothing for your mission. You will want to blend in on this one."

Nodding his head, his brown curly locks fell into his face. Not bothering to fix it so he could see, the boy simply took the clothing and placed them on the table and waited for the chains to be removed.

Once the clothes were put on a surface, Wolfgang von Strucker took the key out of his pocket and unlocked the chains. They fell to the ground with a loud  _'clang'_.

Twisting his wrist, паук tilted his head side to side, a few loud cracks sounded the room. Strucker cringed.

"Hurry up now. We don't have all day," he grunted.

The soldier placed his backpack carefully to the side and quickly removed his pants and tossed them aside. Sliding into the jeans easily, he unfolded the shirt and slid it on his previously naked torso. Slipping into a black hoodie that was provided, he threw on his tennis shoes in a matter of minutes. Picking up the black bag, he turned back towards the man in charge.

"I will escort you out of the place, but from there you will be on your own. My higher commanders and I will send you mission updates and things you will do. You will abide by those things or there will be severe consequences. Do you understand?"

паук nodded. "I understand, sir."

"Good. Follow me."

     

The young boy stood in front of an old motel that could only be accessed if you went off of some old side-road. Pulling his rucksack to his body even tighter, he stepped up onto the gravel pathway. Weeds and other small flowers sprouted from between the rubble.

Opening the door to the run-down joint, he walked to the front counter. Seeing it was vacant, he huffed. Pulling his hand from his side, he slammed it onto the desk bell and waited a couple of minutes. When no one appeared, he huffed and slammed his hand on the bell. This time, a small crack formed on the stained silver coating.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'! Jesus, give a gal a break!" a feminine voice hollered, a Brooklyn accent apparent in her voice.

Appearing in his eyes sight, a girl with brown hair was smoking a cigarette. She dressed quite oddly, паук thought, for she was wearing a 50's inspired circle dress and flats.

Putting the cigarette out in a random ashtray, the girl smacked the side of her old computer. When nothing happened she sneered and smacked it again -- this time a bit harder. Whirling to life, the computer made a noise as if it was saying 'I'm awake!'.

"You have a reservation or somethin'?" she questioned, her thin eyebrow raised as she pouted her glossy, red lips.

"Snowden," he replied cautiously. Maybe he was a little under dressed.

Turning back to the computer, the Brooklyn accented girl began to type on the tan piece of junk. "Snowden, eh? Whadda name."

"Got a problem with it?" The Spider questioned, his voice gruff. Under the desk, his hand slowly began to reach for the gun that was tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

"Chill," she said flatly, turning her back to the wall of keys that hung behind her. "It's just not every day a person comes in with a name so odd." Reaching up, she picked up a small, rusted key. "Hell, 'da only name you hear around here is borin' names like Smith or Baker."

Pivoting back towards 'Snowden', she tossed the key at him. With quick reflexes,паук caught it with ease. "Ya room's 165. Third floor." Eyes lingering over the kid for a moment longer, she walked back towards where she came from, the sound of a lighter being lit was heard.

Adjusting his backpack, he gave one final look towards the direction the Brooklyn girl ran off to before he walked away towards his hotel room.


	4. new friend

 

 **The room at** _Carter's Motel_ was nothing special. If anything, it was a bit run down, which was to be expected if a person saw the outside of the joint. Stepping in and closing the door behind him, the brainwashed boy sat his backpack on the bed that was a few paces away.

Turning towards the windows, he swiftly closed the curtains, which resulted in dust particles flying about the room. Flipping the light switch on, because it was a little bit too dark (even for him), he finally got a look at the room.

In the middle, as he noticed beforehand, was the large, quilt-covered bed. To the side was one, nearly collapsing, bedside table which sat a lamp, the same colour as the room; yellow. Towards the right was a box television which the young boy had no clue of what it actually  _was_. Sniffing, the boy nearly coughed to death from the smell of old, burning wood.

That's when he noticed there was another room connected to his, separated by a large, greenish curtain. As he was getting ready to pull the curtain back, he froze when he heard a small noise. The sound of rummaging.

Quietly pulling out the gun that was on his body, he raised it towards the curtain. Mentally counting to three, he flicked back the shade to find no one there. Eyebrows knotting, he heard the same noise again. This time, it was coming from the blinded spot next to the refrigerator. Walking on light feet, the boy pulled back the hammer of his revolver.

Spinning on the ball of his foot, the brunette came face to face with the wall. Then, he looked down. At his feet was a small, brown and grey rat. Huffing a breath, he unloaded the revolver and stuffed it in his coat pocket.

Bending down to where he rested on the heel of his feet, the boy with many names looked at the rat with interest. "You're a loud thing, aren't you?" he asked it gruffly. To his surprise, the rat made a noise in protest. "Jeez, didn't mean to offend you or anythin'..."

Standing up fully, the boy walked towards the pale yellow appliance. Opening it up, he found that there wasn't anything in it. "Such a surprise." he murmured to himself. Closing it back he found that the rat had disappeared.

Shrugging, The Spider walked back towards the living area of his motel room, completely ignoring the bathroom section until it was needed, and began to unpack his satchel of items. Clothes were quickly put away in the dresser drawers that held the television up and the first aid kit that he had stuffed into his pack was thrown on the kitchen table.

Pulling out his laptop, that Hydra had provided, of course, he sat it under his pillow. Reaching for the flash drive, he debated on to where he should keep it. Under the pillow was too risky, especially seeing that this place could be broken into very easily. On his person wasn't the best choice either, in case he was abducted -- which was very unlikely, but still. Usual hiding spots like in the back of the toilet or under the mattress were out of the question seeing that those were the most go-to places.

The boy was getting ready to just let the rat have it when his eye caught a glimpse of a lonely phone jack that was screwed into the mudded, yellow walls. His eye's brightened and a smirk appeared on his face.

Pulling out his pocket knife he knelt to the ground and unscrewed the two screws. Pulling the cover off, he was careful to not mess with the plastic coated wires -- even though the wires themselves were low-voltage, to begin with.

Stashing the drive in the small, rectangular box, he guided the wires back into the wall and screwed the phone jack back up again. Flipping his blade away, he threw that back into his pocket.

Sighing, he looked at the clock on the wall for the time;

_**' 6 : 4 8 '** _

No wonder he was hungry. Grabbing his wallet (that he had set out before) he exited the motel room and walked down the stairs of the establishment.

He wasn't walking long before he came into contact with a local gas station that's sign was half broken and barely holding on by a thin piece of piping.

Walking in, 'Snowden' picked up a basket and began to search down the mini aisles for the things he needed. Just like packing,  паук decided to go for the bare minimums: bread, milk, eggs, and cheese (which was totally  _not_ for the rat that seemed to be starving itself).

Putting his things up on the cash register surface, the boy waited for the clerk to even notice him. After a little bit of ten seconds, he got impatient. Slamming his hand on the bell, паук jerked the older guy out of his trance. Pulling out his earbud, the cashier looked towards The Spider.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there." he apologized. "In fact, I don't think I heard anyone come in..."

"Doorbell is broken," Snowden replied.

"Ah," the guy said as he began to ring up the items before him. "I haven't seen you around this part of town before. What's your name, kid?"

"Snowden."

"That all? No first name? If it makes you feel better, mine's Andrew."

Hesitating as he reached for his wallet, the teen gave in. He didn't want to stick out too much, and not cooperating with the locals wasn't going to give him the best of a reputation. "Tom," he spoke. "Tom Snowden."

The clerk -- Andrew,  паук remembered -- smiled friendly-like and finished bagging up the groceries in a reusable bag. "We like to use these kinds of bags around here. Good for the environment 'n all. Though since your new 'ere, you probably don't know that."

Nodding his head, 'Tom' quickly paid for his items and trudged his way back to the motel. By the time he got back, the sun was already set and it was a little past 8:02 pm.

Unlocking his door with his key, The Winter Spider entered his room, only freezing when he found that a black burner phone was placed on his bed, alongside an envelope. He was beginning to reach for his gun again, but then he noticed the familiar red symbol that painted the front of the package.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the boy closed the door and walked towards his kitchen to put up his groceries. Tossing the key on the counter, паук turned the gas cooktop on and began to fix him some eggs, buttered toast, and a chunk of cheese (and if anyone asked him if that extra piece of cheese on his plate was for the rat, he would deny that statement with a glare).

Turning everything back off, паук walked over to his bed, with a plate in hand -- thankfully the motel had a decent plate that wasn't  _too_ broken to use. Sitting crisscrossed, the teenager began to eat his meal in silence, just staring at the letter and phone before him. He knew tomorrow he would officially have to begin his mission, but for now, just being in a shit motel eating unseasoned breakfast food at eight-thirty pm was better than being locked up in a falling apart jail cell.

As he was finishing up his food, he heard the familiar squeak of his rodent acquaintance. Peering over the edge of the bed, паук smirked when he saw that the familiar grey and brown rat was staring up at him with wide eyes. It probably smelt the food a few yards away.

Leaning over completely, he picked up the rat with nimble hands and placed him on the bed. At first, the rat wasn't the fondest of 'Tom', but after he gave it its first piece of food, it quickly warmed up to him.

Handing him the last piece of cheese he had on his plate, the boy sighed. Reaching over, he carefully picked up the letter and phone, moving the empty plate (that was free of crumbs, thanks to his unnamed rodent friend), and began to open the message.

Inside was a note written on what seemed to be a brown, throw-away paper bag. The writing was in the same shade of red as Hydra's logo.

**" ДОКЛАД МИССИИ:**

****С ЭТОЙ ЗАМЕТКОЙ ВЫ ПОЛУЧИЛИ ТЕЛЕФОН. ОТ ЭТОГО ВЫ ПОЛУЧИТЕ ИНСТРУКЦИИ ДЛЯ ВАШЕЙ МИССИИ НА ЭНТОНИЙ СТАРК.** **ПОСЛЕДУЙТЕ КАЖДЫЙ ЗАКАЗ ПОТОМУ ЧТО ВАША ЖИЗНЬ ЗАВИСИТ ОТ ЭТОГО "** **

_(report of the mission: with this note, you have received a phone. from this, you will receive instructions for your mission, anthony stark. follow each order because your life depends on it.)_

Blackberry phone in hand, The Spider's senses went off right as his phone dinged. He had received a message. Opening it, he noticed that it was from an unknown number.

**" поспи.**

**завтра вы отправитесь в большой город. "**

_(go to sleep. tomorrow you will go to the big city.)_

A shiver went down паук's spine. How could they see he was awake? Well, then again, it was still fairly early.

Exiting out of the message, that deleted itself right after, the teen looked at the piece of paper. Tearing it into shreds, he walked over and flushed them down the toilet -- hoping that it wouldn't cause any damage that he didn't have the money to pay for. Strucker only gave him so much, after all.

Throwing his plate away,  паук carefully locked the door and climbed into bed. Turning off the bedside lamp, he rolled over on his side, careful of the rat that was fast asleep towards the end.

"Goodnight, rodent."

A soft snore was the only reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact; my uncle and i have this friend who has a lot of pets, and he his the most beautiful rat that's literally the sweetest thing ever. the rat in this story is based on my friend's rat! colour, personality, and name (which you'll find out later) ;)


	5. nightmare at carter's motel

 

 **He sat in**  an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere. The room was dark -- or maybe that was because of the blindfold? -- and the scent of mildew and rotting wood filled his nose. The sound of fire crackled behind him.

His legs were tied to the legs of the chair with vines, the thorns tearing into his skin and cutting open wounds. The small cuts healed fast, though. Because of this, his skin regrew around the thorn.

The pain escalated when he felt a hand come in contact with his cheek, the sound of skin on skin echoing the wooded area. Suddenly, the cloth around his eyes was removed with a sharp yank, and he was blinded by the person holding a flashlight centimeters from his eyes. Wincing, he shut his eyes. His head felt like exploding.

Whoever was holding the light clicked a button, probably turning it off, so the young male dared to opened his eyes. Instead of finding a whole person in front of him, he found himself looking at a man with a monocle slowly disintegrating into a swarm of black and red butterflies.

 _"паук,"_  a voice (presumably the man from before) taunted with a thick Russian accent. 

Looking around in fear, the young boy tugged on the thorns, yelping out in pain from the thorns. He tried to yell or make a noise, but before he could get out one syllable, a metal mouth mask was strapped onto his mouth -- almost as if it appeared out of nowhere.

" _Shh_ ," the voice spoke again, whispering in his ear. Whipping his head towards the voice, the smaller boy found himself disappointed when he found no one there. " _No speaking._ "

" _Let's play a game, shall we_?" a new voice spoke. One that was more feminine. It also had a Russian accent on it -- and somewhat sounded familiar as well..?

The scenery changed.

He wasn't in an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere any more, he was in a lab. The walls were made of stone and the equipment around the room was splattered with blood; the sound of something dripping made him shutter because he just  _knew_ that it wasn't water dripping.

He was no longer sitting, either. Instead, he was chained upright to a small trolley cart. A mirror appeared in front of him, and he saw his reflection.

Black hair and grey eyes.

" _What do you see, паук?_ "

"I see me," he answered to the feminine voice, now noticing that the metal face mask had been removed.

" _Take a closer look_." the male voice instructed. So, he did. He even went as far as squinting his eyes and leaning forwards as far as he could.

"I don't see anything."

" _Look harder_." the voice seethed.

"But it's just a mirr--"

" _Look **HARDER**!_ "

And suddenly, the mirror flickered.

His attention whipped back towards the reflection and for a moment, nothing happened. But as he was getting ready to sigh and call it his imagination, it flickered again.

And then again.

And  _again_.

And ag--- it stopped.

The flickering stopped and instead of his normal reflection, he was left with something that he didn't know what. Or rather,  _someone_ he didn't know, looking back at him.

Brown hair, honey eyes, and a bright smile.

The person looked just like him, but different.

"Who... Who is that?"

But there wasn't an answer.

Instead, the mirror glitched back to its regular form, leaving паук to look at himself -- all tied up and restrained. His raven black hair and his cold, grey eyes stared back at him.

" _паук_." the female voice spoke, her voice gentle but lifeless. " _Can you tell us which is real and which is fiction_?"

The scenery changed again. He was still in the same lab, though this time he was strapped to the freezing metal table, his wrists chafing from the leather bounds.

Then, паук screamed. Lifting his head up, he found that a scalpel was plunged into the centre of his abdomen and the blood dripping down onto the concrete floor; the same noise as the dripping.

 A face flashed in front of him -- the same person who was in those photographs. It disappeared for a split second before it reappeared, his hand wrapped around the scalpel, a nefarious grin on his face.

On the other side of паук, the same man appeared, but with tears in his eyes and holding his hand, telling him everything was going to be okay.

They were the same people, but  _so_ different at the same time.

  " _We know,_ " she taunted. " _But do you? Do **you** know what's real and what's fiction? Who's real and who's not, паук_?"

"I don't -- I don't know!" he cried, his head falling back in pain.

" _Just tell us your answer and we'll let you go. Simple as that._ " he taunted.

"I told you! I d-don't knOW!" паук seethed once more, tugging at his leather straps.

" _But you do,_ " he said. " _Because deep, deep down in that stone cold heart of yours knows exactly which one is real and which one isn't._ "  A scream ripped from паук's throat as the man holding the scalpel slowly cut through more of his flesh.

"I don't, I don't... I..."

A beat of silence spread through the room. "That one! That one is fake!" he screamed his eyes boring into the gentler version of the two. Pure shock spread through his fake-mission's eyes. "No one is ever that nice. He's just a villain like the rest of them." The version of the man holding the scalpel laughed.

But then the pain stopped -- and he wasn't strapped to the table anymore. Instead, he was back in the wooden cabin. The fire was put out and it smelt of oak trees and apple cider. Ashes scattered the worn-down floorboards.

" _Very good,_ _паук,_ very  _good._ " the female taunted.

" _In this world,_ " the masculine voice picked back up, " _there is this non-existent rule that everyone follows. Either a person is born good or bad; **hero** or  **villain**._

" _Their 'choices' are defined by their actions. People who do good are automatically assumed to be heroes -- a person's 'knight in shining armor', whilst people who make **one wrong choice** are therefore conjectured to be the criminals and antagonist of the story._"

" _But that's not true, and you know it._ " the female laughed. " _A hero can be just as nefarious and deceiving like a villain can. J_ _ust because they sport a shiny red cape and are cladded in spandex, doesn't mean they're here to save the day._

" _Because under that 'suit of armor' is a conniving creature that will not hesitate._ "

" _And your mission,_ _паук_ _, is the creature that won't hesitate to end someone's life to save his own skin. That's the cold, hard truth._ " the voice stated. " _That's why you're here to take him down._ "

" _Because the world will be a much better place without a person like_ _ **him**._ "

The scalpel that was previously plunged in his stomach seemingly vanished and the leather bands holding his wrist down disintegrated into dust.

" _He's the **villain** of this story, _ _паук._ "

The wound on his stomach was gone too, not even a scratch in sight. Sitting up on the table, the boy noticed that the tools were all in the same place as before -- as if they've never been touched.

" _You're the hero._ "

     

The young boy woke exactly 3 minutes and 27 seconds later with a newfound passion for completing his mission -- even if it was influenced by a silly nightmare.


	6. research

 

 **The time was** exactly four in the morning and Tom Snowden sat on the cheap motel bed with his laptop open and the flash drive that he had previously hidden plugged in. 

After his persuasive nightmare, the assassin woke up in a cold sweat and wide awake. He tried tossing and turning, but every time he closed his eyes, Anthony Stark appeared with a scalpel in his hand and a wicked smirk. Needless to say, it pissed him off.

So, he grabbed his laptop and flash drive and began to research everything he could find.

Files upon files filled the Spider's cheap laptop. Scrolling carefully, he read each file on every Avenger there was.

 

**ANTHONY EDWARD STARK**

**Anthony Edward Stark**  is the adopted son of wealthy industrialist and head of _Stark Industries_ , Howard Stark, and Maria Stark. Enters  _MIT_ at the age of 15 to study electrical engineering and later receives master's degrees in electrical engineering and physics. After his parents are killed in a car accident, he inherits his father's company.  

**DOB:** _05/29/1970, Manhattan, NY_

**IDENTIFIABLE MARKINGS:** _A miniaturized (RT) ARC reactor embedded in his chest cavity._

**FAMILY:** _Howard A. Stark; father DECEASED 12/17/1991 ||_ _Maria Collins Carbonell Stark; mother DECEASED 12/17/1991_

**MISSION STRENGTHS:** _Iron Man suit makes an impenetrable armour protection with refined flight capability and the most powerful and reliable arc reactor. The reactor powers both his pacemaker and metal alloy suit._

**S.H.E.I.L.D. EMPLOYMENT:** _S.H.I.E.L.D. Advisor_

"Adopted, huh? The news doesn't cover that, now does it?" he smirked to himself as he continued to scroll through the different people listed.

 

**NATALIA ALIANOVNA ROMANOVA**

**Natalia Alianovna Romanova**  was born in Stalingrad, Russia to unknown parents. Though nothing has been said about her backstory to the world, only a few people know about her time in the Red Room(1). 

**DOB:** _1984_

**IDENTIFIABLE MARKINGS:** _N/A_

**FAMILY:** _N/A_

**MISSION STRENGTHS:** _a world class athlete, gymnast, acrobat, aerialist capable of numerous complex manoeuvres and feats, expert martial artist (including Jiu-Jitsu, Aikido, Boxing,  Karate, Judo, Savate, Ninjitsu, various styles of Kung Fu and Kenpo), and weapons specialist as well as having extensive espionage training. She is also an accomplished ballerina. _ _Romanova is an expert tactician. She is a very effective strategist, tactician, and field commander. She has led the Avengers and even S.H.I.E.L.D. on one occasion._

**S.H.E.I.L.D. EMPLOYMENT:** _S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent_

_[ (1) See page 685a, Section ALPHA for information on the Red Room. ]_

 

The boy hesitated for a moment. So far, Romanova seemed to be the biggest threat -- and the Red Room... Why did that name sound familiar? Pushing the thought away, he moved on to the next person.

Then the next.

                            And the next...

                                                ...and the next.

Finally, he reached the last person -- but unlike the rest of the Avengers, this person caught his eye.

 

**WANDA MAXIMOFF**

**Wanda Maximoff** was born in the Eastern European country of Sokovia along with her brother, Pietro Maximoff. At the age of ten, a mortar shell hit her family's apartment building, killing Maximoff's parents, Django and Marya, and trapping Wanda and her brother. A second shell hit the apartment near them but did not go off; the Maximoff twins were left trapped for two days staring at the non-exploding shell reading the name on it,  _Stark Industries._

The experience gave the twins a great hatred for America, especially Tony Stark and later, the Avengers. Often took part and led protests against the Avengers. Dedicated much of her life to this hatred and began searching for ways to bring down the Avengers. This constant political activity put them on S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA's radar. Wanda was affiliated with HYDRA for two years before switching to S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers.

**DOB:** _12/23/---, Sokovia_

**IDENTIFIABLE MARKS:** _N/A_

**FAMILY:** _Pietro Maximoff; brother DECEASED || Django; father DECEASED || Marya; mother DECEASED_

**MISSION STRENGTHS:** _See page 23p, section BETA._

**S.H.I.E.L.D. EMPLOYMENT:** _N/A_

 

Now, this was interesting. Maximoff worked with Hydra? Why did she switch to the bad side? What happened to her to make that decision? Could she switch back with a little bit of persuasion?

So many questions were swarming around in the boy's head that he almost didn't hear his burner phone chime. Picking up the phone, he read the message and sighed.

It was time for him to head to the city.

Standing up, he began to gather his things. Grabbing his rucksack, he filled it with the small amount of clothing he had, his first aid, laptop and flash drive, as well as his money. For now, he'd leave the food in the fridge, for he would probably be back later in the day. The hotel wasn't  _that_ far from the city. It would just be a bit of a walk.

Grabbing his revolver, he stuffed it into the back of the jeans he wore yesterday. Pulling over his slim jacket, he grabbed the hair tie on his wrist and placed his shaggy hair into a loose bun.

He hated his hair in his face. It always bothered him,  _especially_ on missions. He never understood why Strucker never let him cut it. But it had to be for a good reason -- that was the only possible explanation, right?

Throwing the backpack over his shoulder, he made his way towards the door. Reaching for the handle, he heard the familiar sound of a squeak and scurrying. Freezing, he looked over his shoulder to see the rodent was still at the end of the bed standing on its hind legs.

Making an impulsive decision, he took the rat and stuff him in the pocket of his jacket, where it laid comfortably in a curled up ball.

Rolling his eyes, the assassin let out a huff of breath and walked back to the lobby front and out the front door.

Looking down the long, narrow road, he saw the faint outline of the city in the distance.

"Better get comfortable in there, rat," he spoke down to his jacket pocket. "It's going to be a bit of a walk."

 


	7. temporary chapter

Hey friends! 

 

I know I haven’t updated in actual months, so I thought I should give you all a reason for it.

Lately, my depression has gotten so bad, it’s hard for me to do the simplist of task (like getting out of bed and eating). Recently, everything seems to be a chore. I know it shouldn’t be, but it feels like it. 

I’ve been spending more time with my family, too; trying to throw out my suicidal and impulsive thoughts. It’s worked a bit, but not the best method. 

I’ve been, for a while now, in a constant state of anxiety, depression, and outbursts. My therapist, which I do NOT like (and now I can suddenly remember why I stopped going ages ago) has said that I was basically overreacting and that I _wasn’t_ depressed — which is a big ass lie, but go off I guess. 

Anyways, I’m getting off track. 

Some days are harder than others. Today was hard, but I can feel that tomorrow might be even harder — and hell, who knows. Maybe it’ll be a good day for once. 

But each day, I sit at my phone or laptop and just stare. I think maybe I dissociate sometimes, but I’m not too sure. It’s like I want to write, but I _can’t_. 

And it’s so frustrating! Because I keep disappointing you guys by not updating. 

But I swear I’m trying my best, and hopefully in the near future I can start updating more frequently — fingers crossed. 

 

I hope you guys can understand, and if you don’t, I’m sorry.

 

thank you.

       -remus (@jupiduer)


	8. temporary chapter ii

hey guys, it's me again.

 

I just wanted to say thank you for all your support. I've tried my best to reply to all the comments, but I've gotten so many (which was a shocker for me for some reason) that it's hard to reply to all.

 

I'm still in a dark place, probably a bit darker than before, but I'm trying my best to get better. Some days are rougher than others, and I may have relapsed more than once, but I'm trying my best.

 

Once again, thank you so much for all the overwhelming support. From someone who's not used to having this much attention/love thrown at, it feels somewhat amazing (is that the right word? idfk but it is what it is).

 

Anyways, I'm trying my hardest to update more, and hopefully I can finally be able to work/finish some of my fics, but only time will tell.

 

Again (and sorry if I sound repetitive)  _thank you_.

 

You have no idea how much this means to me.

 

-Remus.


	9. TRAILERS, GRAPHICS, + MORE!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It just hit me that I've never posted the graphics, playlist graphic, nor trailers for this fanfiction on here. I did on Wattpad, but somehow I must have forgotten to do it on here... 
> 
> Anyways! This is a whole chapter dedicated too all graphics, trailers, and fan art (which I would actually cry if someone made fanart for this shit-fest)!
> 
>  
> 
> (everything is made by me unless stated!)

 

**OFFICIAL TRAILERS:**

 

_Trailer #1 (2018)_

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BwSsdYKSATA>

 

_Trailer #2 (2019)_

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8joGMigA3eU>

 

 

 

**GRAPHICS + PLAYLISTS:**

 

__

__

 

 

 

**FAN ART + MISCELLANEOUS:**

 

__(n/a)

 


	10. Rise & Grind Cafe

 

 **The trip to** the city took around an hour (seeing that he had to rest for a moment to feed the fluffy rat), but finally he reached the "great" city. Pulling on the hood of the jacket he wore, he slipped into the shadows to random alley ways. He went unnoticed, minus the one unlucky homeless person that saw him. The boy quickly took care of that without any issues, of course.

"Hush." he commanded the rodent when it started to squeak. The animal looked up at the male with piercing red eyes before turning his head and huffing. Also huffing a breath, the boy stalked towards another hotel. Of course he still had his other motel room at Carter's, but unfortunately it was too long of a walk back and forth and the bag on his shoulder was starting to get even heavier somehow.

Sighing, he realized that he would have to use even more of the money Strucker gave him. He sighed  _again_ when he realized that he would surely get punished for it. He was going to have to fix that. Sticking his tongue to his cheek he walked back onto the sidewalks, blending in with the crowd once again.

 

* * *

       

After checking into  **River Lodge Motel** , he decided that he was hungry. He kicked himself when he realized that he left all his food at Carter's. Exhaling, he pulled out the money from his pocket and counted. He still had quite a bit, even if it wasn't that much to begin with.

His thoughts drifted back towards a cafe he passed on his way to the motel. Making up his mind, he put his jacket back on and closed the door behind him. It wouldn't make that much of a dent into his money stash. Plus, he's never had the opportunity to be able to eat so...  _freely_.

When he was at his home base, it was all fuzzy, but what he did remember was that they would give him a small portion of food (even though he was always  _so_ hungry) at exactly three, and only give him five minutes to eat his meal. But now? Now he was able to control what he wanted to eat, on his time, and how much of it. It was... incredible to say the least.

The walk to the cafe was a bit slower than usual, but it was noon and lunchtime was rolling in. With every step more and more people crowded the streets, the noise level growing intensely. The Spider's senses began to buzz with electricity and anxiousness. The noise was beginning to get too much and the awful smell of the big city became overbearing, but finally,  _finally_ , the cafe came into his vision.

Sliding off into the mini restaurant, a bell alerted the workers that a new customer has arrived. Surprisingly, however, they were almost empty -- opposite of what was going on outside, but it wouldn't take long for it to fill up. "Hi and welcome to  **Rise & Grind Cafe**!" a small girl said with a large grin. "Take a seat and someone will be with you shortly." 

Nodding at her, Tom sat at the far corner of the cafe. He sunk low into the seats, and the only thing that gave away that he was there was the floof of a bun on the top of his head. Pulling the jacket tighter he quietly looked at the menu that laid on the table before him.

After deciding what he wanted to eat (the cheapest things on the menu), he pulled out the black laptop. Starting it up took a moment, for so much information stored on the device made it lag quite a bit, but typed in the long, encrypted password. Once logged in, he plugged the flash drive into the USB port and typed in another set of random numbers and letters.

Once in, he easily pulled up the files holding information about his target, including websites, newspapers, S.H.I.E.L.D. files, medical history, and more. Clicking on the Medical file, Snowden managed to get halfway through it before a bubbly blackette walked over to his table. "Hello!" she said cheerfully. "What can I get ya?"

Clicking on the escape key, the computer screen went to the Google homepage (what the  _hell_ is a Google?). "I'd like the BLT with cheese, side of fries, and an ice water." he spoke plainly, his voice a low monotone. The girl nodded, wrote down the order, and walked off slightly disappointing he didn't leave her any room to flirt.

Rolling his eyes, Tom clicked the same key and brought back all of his old pages. Continuing to read through the files, he managed to get some work done before his food came back. A different server brought his food. It was a guy this time, and for some reason, the Spider didn't get a good look at his face. Eyebrows knotting together, he moved his laptop aside and began to dig into his meal.

Finishing the last fry, the boy realized there was a piece of metal covered in saran wrap at the bottom of the dish. Looking around the room, he caught a glimpse of the same guy walking into the kitchen, and presumably, out the back door. Grabbing the, what looked like another flash drive, he stuffed it into his jean pocket.

Closing his computer he stuffed it back into his bag, stood up, and laid down the money on the table. Hopefully it would cover the meal. On his way out he heard a yell of a "Hey!", but slipped into the shadows of the alleyways again before he could get caught. And then he made his trek back to River Lodge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the shortness of the chapter, but i'm slowly easing myself back into writing. (it's also really boring, so i'm sorry about that as well...)

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse any mistakes of either grammatical, or plot wise. 
> 
> vv LINKS FOR BOOK PLAYLIST AND PINTEREST BOARD! vv
> 
> -Spotify; https://open.spotify.com/user/kenziep0401/playlist/7mmkm85iN0nR21hHfvrdOT?si=9ngNyA1STFqtPk-gv45otg
> 
> -Pinterest; https://www.pinterest.com/TwinButterfly02/the-winter-spider-peter-parker/


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